


so tell me who am i, that you dream of me

by prettierodds



Series: a life deserved (but not easily given) [2]
Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: AT FIRST don’t worry, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Nightmares, Unrequited Love, little mix of both here, shaun is still dead I’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettierodds/pseuds/prettierodds
Summary: “So why am I there? In your dreams, with your family?” Norman asks. His voice is quiet and it comes out as more of a dare than a question. Ethan can’t help but laugh.“You’re about the only person I have left, Jayden.”
Relationships: Norman Jayden/Ethan Mars
Series: a life deserved (but not easily given) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024177
Kudos: 14





	so tell me who am i, that you dream of me

_Sent from Norman Jayden at 9:48 PM: now a good time?_

Ethan stares at his phone for what seems like hours. He glances at the time displayed on his screen and sighs; he’s supposed to have therapy in the morning. Going to Norman’s now ensures he’s spending the night, which almost certainly ensures he’ll be late to the office. _There’s an easy solution to this, dumbass._

 _“_ Don’t fucking go,” he says under his breath. Norman has bailed on him enough that Ethan shouldn’t feel bad about leaving the message unanswered. His fingers hover over the keys anyway, daring him to reply anything other than ‘see you in twenty’. Ethan figures he could stay at home, alone with his thoughts until he decides to go to bed embarrassingly early and then wake up on autopilot for his appointment, _or_ he could go over to Norman’s and have an easy distraction for a while. Ethan sends a text before he starts reaching for his shoes.

_Sent to Norman Jayden at 9:55 PM: see you in 20_

In Ethan’s defense, Norman’s apartment has working heat and a way nicer bed. 

——————————————————————

“That was longer than twenty minutes,” Norman is waiting for Ethan at the door, which isn’t unusual. What is unusual, however, is how out of it he looks. He cracks a smile with his attempt at dry humor but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His normally bright blue eyes seem dull and sunken in, emphasized by dark circles underneath.

“Norman, you look like shit.” Ethan says with genuine concern. Norman shrugs. 

“Just a long day, y’know?” And Ethan does know. _Feels like every day is a fucking ‘long day’._ They both stand silently for a moment, until Norman opens the door wide enough for Ethan to step inside. Normally, by this point they’re on each other like teenagers but Norman doesn’t make a move. Ethan clears his throat and shoves his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his jacket. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Your . . long day?”

It’s an unprecedented question, because Norman and Ethan don’t ‘talk’ all that much. After the investigation with the Origami Killer, there had been a handful of conversations in texts late at night once they both realized their sleep schedules were non-existent. Ethan thought it was a relief to have someone to reach out to who understood a little bit of what he was going through, and Norman was just grateful to have a distraction from his Triptocaine withdrawals. Texts turned into drinks and drinks turned into—

Well. 

Norman and Ethan found there were better ways to occupy themselves than talking. 

Norman moves his head up slowly as he stands still in the middle of the living room. Ethan is just noticing there’s a record player on, spinning something soft and calm in the corner. 

“No, s’alright, I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

“Okay,” says Ethan. “I didn’t know you had a record player.”

“A gift from my dad, before he died.” 

Right. Ethan nods like this conversation is in any way normal. 

Norman still hasn’t moved. His eyes are trained on something on the ground, something invisible against the grain of the dark wood. Ethan takes a step forward. 

“Norman.” Hearing his name snaps his eyes up to the other man. They’re unfocused, glassy, and Ethan’s heart drops. 

“If you used . . You can tell me.” 

“I didn’t fucking _use_ , Ethan. Jesus.” And Norman’s moving, suddenly, running fingers through his hair anxiously as he paces towards the small kitchen. Ethan follows, growing confused as Norman pulls the coffee maker forward on the counter. He rummages through cabinets for a moment before setting down a bag of coffee grounds and filters. The clock on the oven reads 10:46 in neon green digital letters. Ethan leans against the counter a few feet away. 

“It’s almost eleven,” he says cautiously. “You’re making coffee?”

“I don’t plan on sleeping.” Norman shakes out what looks like the last of the bag into the filter and begins pouring water into the machine. He doesn’t look at Ethan at all. 

Ethan frowns. “Well I mean yeah, I figured . . I mean I got your text, so.” He’s not sure how to finish that sentence. _Hey Jayden, you don’t usually need to chug coffee before having sex, what gives?_

Norman stops for a moment and squeezes his eyes shut. His hands are shaking as he blindly flips the power button on. 

“I probably shouldn’t have texted you,” It’s so mumbled Ethan isn’t sure if he hears it right. This is a first. He turns towards Norman, who is currently tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s trying to speak in Morse code. 

“You want me to leave?”

“I don’t know,” His fingers still for a moment. “You can stay if you want. Bed’s all yours.”

_Tap tap tap, pause, tap tap, pause, tap tap tap tap tap-_

Ethan places his hand over Norman’s. 

“Or,” he starts, “you could tell me why you’re not sleeping?” 

Norman moves his hand.

And this is the part Ethan fucking hates. Ethan hates that he’s in love with someone who doesn’t seem to need anything from him expect sex, he hates that Norman stopped talking about his son’s case after he got sober, he hates that he’s about to spend the night here because he’s afraid to leave Norman alone. Ethan hates that they haven’t had an honest conversation in months. What Ethan hates the most is that in his dreams, his perfect world includes a romanticized version of someone who doesn’t love him back. 

The kitchen is silent save for the quiet rumble of the coffee maker and the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. 

Norman pulls a mug from the short rack on the counter and then, finally, looks at Ethan. 

“Want some?”

Ethan doesn’t know whether to take it as an invitation to stay up with him, to talk, to have some meaningful connection — or if he’s just reading into it and Norman’s simply being polite. He nods once and Norman grabs another mug. It’s blue with some kind of white design on it. It’s nice, probably the one Ethan would’ve picked out himself. It doesn’t mean anything. 

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping.” 

Ethan looks up, surprised. Norman is carefully pouring out coffee, eyes narrowed and blushing slightly. _That’s his dramatic conversation starter?_

“I haven’t slept without a nightmare in almost three weeks now.” He says quietly. _Oh._ Norman slides a mug towards Ethan. 

“Nightmare about?” 

Norman shrugs. “Depends. I mean,” he takes a sip, staring hard into his drink. “Some things are like normal nightmares. Stuff from work, y’know?” 

Ethan stays quiet. He has Norman finally _confiding_ and he’s not about to start fucking interrupting now. 

Norman continues after a moment. “But some nights I dream about Shaun. And about you, Ethan.”

Ethan feels his blood run cold and his breath catch in his lungs. Norman doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“What?” It comes out almost in a wheeze. 

“About you, about Shaun, keep up.” Norman grumbles, but there’s no real irritation in his voice. He sighs and sets his mug on the counter, then presses a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t want to say anything. I’m sorry I shoulda just . .” There’s a note of frustration as he sighs and cuts himself off. 

“Hey.” Ethan takes another step towards him, leaving a mere few inches between the two. “You’re allowed to talk about this shit. I’m sorry you were involved at all. With Shaun and I, I mean.” And Ethan really is sorry, because Norman had seemed so young and desperate back then, chasing someone like Scott Shelby. He should’ve been climbing his way through the ranks, working up case by case instead of itching to prove himself with a serial killer who left a trail of dead kids in his wake. He shouldn’t have been Shaun’s only hope. It wasn’t fair. 

“Don’t be sorry. I would do it again in a heartbeat, Ethan.” Norman says quietly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help save him.” It comes out a whisper, and Ethan again takes his hand. Norman doesn’t pull away this time. 

“I know. Me too.” Because there’s really nothing else to say. Norman leans forward so his head is resting on Ethan’s shoulder and Ethan’s arms automatically fold around him. His eyes close as the kitchen once again falls silent. Ethan swallows hard when he feels Norman’s hands reach up to clench the back of his shirt. _Maybe Norman Jayden needs him after all._

“Norman, I have to tell you something,” Ethan whispers. He takes his silence as a cue to go ahead. “I dream about Shaun almost every night.” 

“He’s your son.” 

“I dream about you, too.”

Norman pulls back a bit to look at Ethan. He frowns, eyebrows furrowed and Ethan’s heart breaks a little at the confused look. 

“I dream that Shaun’s here, with me,” Ethan starts. He reaches up to gently run his fingers through Norman’s hair. “We live in a house that I designed, an old ranch style. Somewhere out in the open, where Shaun has room to grow up.” His voice grows soft as he speaks, reaching into his memories of the life he should’ve had. “And you’re there, Norman. Not all the time, but enough. Shaun likes you.” He smiles. 

Norman finally smiles back, although there’s an inevitable sadness to it. 

“I would've liked to meet him.” 

Ethan is quiet, lost in thought as he places his palm against Norman’s face. 

“So why am I there? In your dreams, with your family?” Norman asks. His voice is quiet and it comes out as more of a dare than a question. Ethan can’t help but laugh.

“You’re about the only person I have left, Jayden.” Ethan takes a breath and says, “I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time you invited me here.” 

Ethan can’t tell if that’s the answer he was looking for. Norman doesn’t move at first, eyes wide and searching when they meet Ethan’s. 

“In love. . . with me?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Don’t mock me for askin’ a question.” Norman frowns but it doesn’t last long; he hesitates for only a second before wrapping his hand around the back of Ethan’s neck and pulling him forward in a kiss. 

It’s something they’ve done a million times before, but not like this. There’s no rush, no urgency, no distractions or impatient hands. It’s deliberate and gentle, it’s Ethan finally saying _I love you_ over and over. Norman’s other hand finds its way to Ethan’s face and pulls him still closer, and Ethan thinks this must be the ending to his dream that he never gets to see. The two of them, together, simply being. Even so, Ethan can’t exactly deny that it’s not complete. There will always be one part of him missing, one part of him never _quite_ healed. But for now, in the moment, Ethan knows that this is the next right thing. He has Norman, and that’s enough.

Norman pulls away slightly, enough to give his lips room to ask, “Stay with me?”

Ethan smiles. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

**Author's Note:**

> wow it’s been a long time. this is the second part to we built our own world bc it needed a happy ending. i wrote it quick so I’ll be back to clean it up eventually, but for now enjoy some Ethan/Norman content


End file.
